


on the mats

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Disabled Character, F/M, Future Fic, Older Man/Younger Woman, Romance, Sparring, Training, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:37:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye and Coulson become sparring partners.</p><p>(based on Tumblr conversations about these two's sexy arms)</p>
            </blockquote>





	on the mats

**[ &1]**

The first time he is reluctant. She thinks he might do him some good, help get him out of his head a bit.

Fitz said it would be good for him, get him used to the arm – there is only so much one could do on his own. But days passed and he didn't ask anyone for help, he didn't come down to the gym to find a partner. He was morose. She was thinking about offering when Mack suggested she'd do exactly that.

It's shockingly intimate, for both of them, but Coulson has more training behind it, he is able to not think twice about it. They have never really fought back to back on the field, so it feels odd to be fighting against each other here. Up close Coulson is bigger than he looks (his arms are definitely bigger) and at first Skye is baffled when he tries a hit, the whole idea of him _attacking_ her, like she doesn't really understand what she is seeing, because Coulson would never want to hurt her. 

Coulson tries to think about it as she were someone else, someone he used to train with, like he did with May a long time ago, or Romanoff a couple of times before self-preservation kicked in. The way he learned to do this from Fury. It's shouldn't be any different, doing this with Skye.

The first couple of times he lungs at her with his left hand it doesn't exactly do what he wants – too stiff, too heavy, too not-really-part-of-him – so he tries to work around the problem, instead of working the problem out, using his right fist and not giving Skye an opening on the other side. She thinks, vaguely, he would have made a good hacker. But this defeats the purpose of what they are here. He might be more experienced and have the advantage of his weight but Skye is faster, lithe and resourceful, so she starts circling him and loading the hits on his left side. He dodges the first couple of tries, and Skye can see he is annoyed. 

This is why she's here, Coulson figures once he catches up what what she's doing. He shouldn't bedgrudge her will to help him. He just wishes she didn't see through him so well.

And it's not like Skye enjoys seeing him like this. It breaks her heart, actually. Everyone keeps saying how well he has taken the whole thing. He's not. Sure, a member of his team getting sucked to god knows what strange dimension by a rock hasn't helped, but he was not doing so great before that. If she lets him hide what's going on with him in here as well it's only going to slow down the process. Skye knows _exactly_ what if feels like, trying to hide yourself when you are on the mats. It sucks. She doesn't want that for Coulson.

Once more she tries to get him to lead with his left and once again he refuses, giving her a perfect opening as she grabs him by the shoulder and pushes him down until he's on his back on the mats.

"Ouch," he lets out, more startled by finding himself in this position – it's been a long time since he has trained with another person – than actually hurt by the fall. It had been stupid to try to do this without working on using his new hand. Skye is good. Not just because she's a good fighter (he knew that), but because she managed to teach him a lesson, in every sense.

"I'm sorry," she says, offering her hand.

Coulson shakes his head. "Don't apologize. You're supposed to do that."

And his face relaxes for the first time in weeks as he grabs her hand and lets her pull him up.

He's back on his feet.

 

**[ &2]**

The second time she is tired. A mission gone south, more people hurt to carry on her shoulders. She has this hard, absent look in her eyes. He tries to distract her.

"Coulson," she says, trying to reject the offer, voice hoarse from a day of giving orders.

"Agent Johnson," he replies, then softens the lines around his mouth. "As your Director I have to tell you, you need the practice," he tries to tease her.

With a bit of effort she smiles back, she is wired to be grateful to people and he _is_ trying to help.

By the time she comes back from changing her clothes Coulson is already in the gym, flexing.

He's right, it does help, and she does get distracted. She wishes she had known that kind of distraction before she joined SHIELD, before she started training hard with May, she wishes she had known all the ways you can make your body get rid of the crap inside your head (only for a moment, afterwards the crap comes back, but oh is it a glorious blinding moment). Coulson doesn't hold back, doesn't hold back at all and Skye almost finds herself on her back twice, three times, unexpectedly, because she's not paying attention, and he's _really_ not holding back, like he knows she needs it.

It's probably the closest he's ever come to putting up a good fight, the closest he'll ever come to winning against her, and it's because her head is somewhere else, back in the house of the family whose Inhuman kid she is trying and failing to help. But even so Coulson feels a bit proud of it, of getting so many hits. Skye is magnificent when it combat. Wearing her training clothes, the soft gray top she favor, no one could look at those powerful muscles of her arms and not fear for their lives. There was a time when she was strong but didn't look it, now training and confidence have transformed her body into something quite imposing.

"Thanks," she tells him afterwards, after he has _lost_ of course, and she throws a towel at his shoulder when Coulson smiles and looks down (or looks down and only then he smiles, Skye is not sure of the chain of events).

 

**[ &3]**

They are _both_ frustrated. There is something of an edge in their punches tonight. They haven't been communicating properly outside these mats, so they try to fix it here. May is always telling her to bring stuff from outside to the sparring but never expect it to be fixed. This is something Skye didn't need May to teach her, this is something she knew.

She's not in the mood to hold back, to be playful and companionable like the other times they've done this. She wants someone to fight her.

Coulson is afraid, she can tell. Afraid the next wrong decision he makes for a good, selfless reason will get someone killed. But it's that indecision which will get someone killed. She wants to punish him for that, knowing that she can't, knowing that every other day she would appreciate that foolish faith of his. And she hates herself for it – she is the one who's going to get people killed.

She connects a hard punch on his bare shoulder, Coulson making a good job of protecting his more vulnerable spots. He's good at that, a defensive guy. 

"Come on," she says, tensing her jaw, taunting him to just attack instead of standing there and hope for the best.

It's not him she's angry at. She knows she should leave, that it would be safer for everyone, the way the tide is turning. She _is_ angry at him, because he makes the mere idea of leaving unberable.

He wants to give Skye all he can, he really does, but right now he is just trying to survive this sparring session. She's way too good and way too strong. He can only fumble, stumble, struggling to protect his body from attacks.

At some point he uses the full force of his prosthetic to twist her arm and Skye cries out for a moment before easily untangling herself from his grip. Coulson is about to apologize when he sees her face. She would probably murder him if he apologized right now.

She comes back at him with everything – short of her powers – that she has. He's stupid and naive and he should have stop pretending he can play both sides and keep both sides _safe_ and he should have taken her out of the team a long time ago. Way before the accussations started rolling. 

She kicks him off balance, so she can grab his hair and push her knee into his stomach. He bends over and Skye pulls him upright, pressing him against the wall. As he tries to catch his breath she holds her forearm against his throat, making it almost impossible. Her whole body pressed against him now, she can feel his heart thumping wildly, but when she looks up Coulson doesn't seem scared of her.

"I could hurt you right now," she says.

"You wouldn't." Skye wouldn't hurt him – this is one fundational truth he knows, even when he is doubting himself, doubting the very reason of his existence, he does not doubt this. He is always shocked to think people believe Skye is dangerous, to hear them use the word itself. This close to her he can feel the humming under her skin. It took him a long time, after San Juan, to realize this, that something had changed and he could physically feel it when she was close. He doesn't know if everyone can feel it too – the Kree blood still inside him, he often wonders – or even if he's imagining things. He's never told her this. She has told him how it feels, the power inside her, the buzzing like a swarm inside her veins. Coulson can hear it now, that song, with Skye's elbow pressed against his throat in fake menace.

"The things they are saying about me on tv..." Skye says, keeping her stance.

"They will say worse things from now on," Coulson tells her.

She pulls back a bit, her arm falling to rest on his chest. She had expected him to be comforting about this. Maybe this is comforting, trusting she can stand it. Maybe it's their no-lies policy. Skye would find other words flat and cruel; she knows where the world is heading to these days.

She lets go of him, avoiding his gaze.

"You're not going to finish it?" he asks. Worried, because Skye has never quit on him mid-fight before.

He can see the weight on her shoulders, and can picture the face she's making, even though she has her back turned to him.

"It's a tie," she says, walking out of the gym.

 

**[ &4]**

This time, once she has him on his back on the mats, she moves up his hips until she settles on his stomach, as she reaches out and thumbs the bruise under his chin. It's new and he winces a bit but doesn't pull back. Skye can feel him breathe under her weight.

"It's okay," he says, thumbing the hollow of her wrist in turn. And Skye wishes they could figure out a way to get this close without impending doom or noticeable wounds pushing them along, without the lull of safety pulling them apart afterwards. "It's over," he says.

And that's the problem.

How to do something about this, now that they are not at risk, now that the world only threatens them in the usual ways.

Skye waits for him to pull back. Counts the seconds, the long seconds in longers breaths, as he vibrates between her legs without knowing he does, the shape of the universe no one else but her can see, the way she can tell invisible reluctance, all the invisible lies people think they tell so well. People betray themselves in vibrations. Coulson often does. Skye doesn't need to be able to read those: his face betrays him even more often.

She waits for him to pull back, like every time they've reach this point. He pulls back or she does, too scared to push a change that might break something so important. He pulls back or she does, and now it's Coulson's turn.

He doesn't.

She moves her hips back, making him catch his breath. Coulson moves his left hand to wrap it around her waist. Skye likes the cold touch of the metal as his fingers slip under the fabric of her top. She knows Coulson can't feel that so she's not sure the gesture is intentional.

Her breathing has become heavy and almost painful. "Come on," she tells him, tired of getting closer and pulling back, wanting something to break. "Are you going to finish it?"

He holds her hips tighter, with both hands, then he suddenly throws her to one side, flipping their bodies to reverse the situation.

Suddenly Skye is on her back and Coulson is covering her, pinning her arms gently against the mats.

They are both panting as their eyes meet again. 

She finds the angle strange, looking up at Coulson from down here. She's not used to being the one on her back, it's disconcerting for a moment, and he looks bigger than he is. Coulson shares the same bafflement, wonders if he has gone too far. Having Skye pinned under him is almost disturbing in a way, because the context is no longer friendly sparring, even though he knows she can get away from his grip whenever she wants to. That shouldn't be the point so he gives her a questioning look. Skye swallows hard, her mouth gone dry. She can feel his hips between her thighs, trembling. She still likes the cold touch of metal when he wraps his left hand around her elbow. He lets go of her right hand, though, dropping his fingers from her wrist to the inside of her arm, drawing circles on the soft skin. Coulson is still looking for permission when she shivers at the caress and arches her body against him.

He rolls his hips. Skye moans softly, breaking eye contact for a moment, wrapping her legs around his waist in reply. These gym clothes hide nothing and she can feel him growing hard against her, and he can feel how hot and wet she is.

Finish it, she pleads with him without a word.

Coulson gives her a little nod and drops his head, finally pressing his mouth to hers as they both sigh with relief.

 

**[ &5]**

This is what they do. At the beginning of a quiet day, or at the end of a shitty one. Not often, but often enough. They fight together, they spar together, they sleep together, they suffer together, they find joy together. They know each other's bodies and they can call each other's bluffs. And some times it's like today, early in the morning, his eyelids heavy (the delight when she discovered he was much less of a morning person than her), her stance ready and a cocky smirk on her mouth.

It feels like they have been doing this for years, and then they realize they might have.

"Come on, old man, you can do better," Skye teases when a left hook lands nowhere and he almost loses his balance.

" _Old man_? Really? You're going there?" he asks, raising his fists in a protective stand again – he knows Skye has a tendency to attack when you think she's just having a conversation, or when she's teasing you. You can never be too careful.

She shrugs, a kind of _What are you gonna do about it?_ gesture. She know better than trying to appeal to his wounded pride. Coulson doesn't remember winning a simple fight against her. He should probably be more competitive about it, but Skye doesn't seem to mind. But this morning, well, she has to pay for that comment.

Skye thinks it's cute, the way he's seizing her up right now, like he really believes he has a chance to defeat her. The extra energy serves him well, though, and he even manages to score a couple of proper hits to her body.

He shows a pathetic smirk of contentment when he manages to pin her against the concrete column.

Skye frowns and vibrates him away from her.

"Hey," he protests, stumbling back. "We said no superpowers."

She shrugs again, messing with him. "Who promised that? I never promised that."

Coulson shakes his head, trying to hide a smile. She doesn't need the powers for the next part, once she's got him riled up (okay, so she loves him but he's really not a very original fighter, he always follows the same patterns) and leaving openings right and left. She almost feels pity for the guy.

She has this face, and Coulson swallows hard, because she has this face that means she's going to eat him alive.

It doesn't take Skye more than three more minutes to get him on his back on the mats. He falls with a dry thud, wincing and exaggerating the pain of the impact. Didn't she just call him "old man"? Well, maybe she should be more careful with him. Judging by her face of satisfaction when she has him pinned down – and Coulson himself is not about to complain, having her pressed against his hips – that's not happening any time soon.

He taps her shoulder softly as a gesture of surrender.

"Coffee, please?" he begs.

She smiles down at first, that little spark in her eyes that means she's in trouble. She twists her fingers into the fabric of his t-shirt and pulls him against her.

"Shower first," she says against his mouth, the meaning unmistakeable.


End file.
